I decided to use more then 10 lines... because I could

Her heels clicked on the marble staircase

Red like blood, and making her look far taller than she really was

Her skirt was tight; fitting against her slim body

She had little range of motion in that skirt

It annoyed her

But no matter, she had a mission

Being an aspiring artist, one must find inspiration

In whatever, whomever, or wherever

She, unlike most, found hers in the largest of buildings

Not the building itself, nor any random building

No, no

That just wouldn’t do

She found her inspiration was set ablaze in the museums

Beautiful artistry lined thousands of square feet

And silence flowed from every mouth like honey

It was her haven

And today was Like any other, only this time she picked something a bit more excited

The museums of tunne

It was Finnish, the name

Other languages always gave her a pep in her step

So, she found something with both things she loved

Though, yes, she loved other languages, she hadn’t quite gotten around to learning Finnish

With Spanish, French, German, and Arabic

Finnish hadn’t come up

So truly, this would be a surprise on what she would find

Making it to the doors, she could already see all the EXHIBITS

Sparkling, seeming untouchable, and fragile

Perfect, she thought

She entered

And the air conditioning hit her face with great force

Shocking her for only a moment, until she pulled out her jacket she had brought along she snuggled deep inside

She loved to be kept warm in cool places

......

It had been about an hour, and she had found inspiration

But

Not like she’s hoped

The artifacts, and painting, and sculptures were very odd

They seems out of place and miss configured

One In particular was especially intriguing

Labeled LAMENT on its base, it was a dark figure of sorts

Like a diamond in rotation, every time you moved, even slightly, it wasn’t what is was before

First it was a small grave, then, moving slightly to the left, it was a brain that looked to be melting

It went on like this about 15 times, shifting into something new on every turn

It was peculiar- strange

But it sparked her interest; INHABITING much space in her mind

She didn’t mind though

With inspiration hitting like a train, she whipped out her sketch book and began to do what she did best: she made art

Her hands moved, grace and poise wherever her pencil was placed

Finding a bench, she sat and drew

Getting up every once and awhile to see what thing she would see next

Finally, she finished

The sun had set now, and her skirt annoyed her more then ever but none of that matter now

She had made a masterpiece

A peculiar lament